


One Lump Or Two

by relic_amaranth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gabriel as a corgi, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Other, Reader-Insert, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:50:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: You find out Gabriel is your soulmate. You have…issues with this.





	One Lump Or Two

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Fluff, Soulmate trope (the first words you say to your soulmate are like a tattoo on your skin)
> 
> A/N: Written for @gabriel-monthly-challenge on Tumblr for the April prompts that revolve around corgis. I don’t really have much to say; this is short and sweet and straightforward. Timeline placement info: I think this is post-S9 of some alternate timeline; apologies, I keep writing like the Loki/Asmodeus thing never happened.

 

“So who’s the new sugarlump?”

You freeze at the voice. More accurately: at the _words_. It can’t be possible, but no one else has ever called you ‘sugarlump.’ You had no idea what kind of person _would_ call you ‘sugarlump.’

Apparently it’s a guy with tousled finger-brushed hair and a mischievously hooked smirk. Not what you had imagined, but it seems to suit the type of person who would saddle you with that particular word on your skin all your life.  You’re about to open your mouth, hopefully to give him an equally ridiculous greeting, when Dean, exasperated, says, “This is Gabriel. Gabriel, this is…”

Dean introduces you but your mind whites out for a few moments as you process that your supposed soulmate is an angel. An archangel. It leaves you unable to speak– you know, in theory, he’s a friend and ally, like Castiel, but you don’t know him. And…an angel with a _soulmate_? Did angels have souls? Judging by the ones you’ve met, you’d say ‘no.’

Gabriel looks at you curiously. You clench your jaw tight and give him a polite nod before you look down at your book, even though your attention is still primarily on him. There’s a moment of silence before Gabriel says, “Uh, what did I–”

Dean yanks him out of the room and you breathe a little easier. Dean will tell him about the grigori, and the other angel that was angry about the fall and eager to take it out on the first hunter they crossed, and you hope that Gabriel will be so bored and uninterested that he’ll leave you alone. Sure, from what you’ve heard he seems to like harassing Sam and Dean, but if you don’t give him the time of day he won’t bother you.

You hope.

 

A fist slams on your door three times. You’re so used to it now that you don’t even shift until Dean shouts, “You’re up!”

You shut your laptop and hop up to grab your towel and clothes. Despite having room for more than one in the showers, you, Sam, and Dean are not keen on using the room at the same time. Sam virulently so after a surprise dye job. You don’t think he looked _so_ bad as a blond, but you can understand the upset. And you’re not willing to take the risk yourself.

As soon as you open the door to the showers, though, all thoughts of a peaceful twenty minutes with nothing but the soothing sound and feel of hot running water are ruined by what appears to be a…rave?

Neon lights flash across the walls, disco balls turn, and you think even in the chaos you can see fountains going off, though you’re not sure if they’re actually fountains or if Gabriel just repurposed shower heads. Gabriel, because he’s there, singing karaoke into something that’s not actually a microphone, dressed only in a towel that hangs dangerously low on his hips.

Then he appears in front of you suddenly, singing, “Just like a dream, you are not what you seem!” and then he holds the hairbrush (thankfully bereft of any actual hair) up to your mouth for the next line.

The musical imitation plays on in the background as water sloshes around in festive hues. You clear your throat, take several slow steps back, and shut the door on the whole scene.

You’ll just…go to the gym in town.

 

“Heeeeeey bug-a-boo!”

Your mouth is full of cereal so you just give Gabriel a glance and a nod.

He proceeds to lie all along the table on his side, arm bent so he can rest his head on his fist. “So. Angels. Pretty sore subject?”

You shrug one shoulder. You are _definitely_ not talking about that.

“Right, right. I get that,” he says, in a way that makes you squint. He sounds so…honest. He pulls up his shirt to show a red scar. It’s small, so you figure you must have missed it in the showers; it had been hard to see. …And you were trying really hard not to ogle. You try to be as respectful now, though you really want to poke the little tuft of pudge on Gabriel’s lower abdomen. Until he, thankfully, drops the fabric. “I kept it,” he admits. “It’s a good reminder.”

There’s a lot in those few words. Even if you wanted to talk to him, you don’t know what you’d say. You hold up the box of cereal and shake it, jolting him out of whatever dark place he’s going to. “It’s good?” he asks and takes the box to look at. His face lights up. “Ooo, marshmallows; don’t mind if I do.” He pours himself a bowl and sits next to you, but he gives you half a body of space in between. “Thanks.”

You nod, and the two of you eat in relative silence.

Mostly.

Gabriel crunches loudly and then starts singing the cereal commercial jingle. Then, inexplicably, or perhaps for reasons known only to him, he starts musically _barking_ to it. Like a dog. You shake your head but laugh silently into your bowl. Out of the corner of your eye you see Castiel stare for a few seconds before he, very slowly, very awkwardly, walks backwards until he is no longer in sight. Given the look on his face, you think he’s no longer in the same hemisphere.

It’s sort of comforting to know Gabriel is weird even by angelic standards.

 

“Hey pumpernickel!”

“What’s up peanut?”

“Looking good, honey bun!”

“Research again, dumpling?”

You don’t lift your head but you do aim your eyes all the way up so you can at least look at him, because you know he can do better than that.

“Gabriel,” Dean says tensely. “Why are you flirting with them?”

“Why not?” Gabriel says. And winks at you.

Wait. What?

You look back down at words that suddenly don’t make any sense. He can’t be serious.

…Can he?

“Does it bother you?”

Gabriel is, in fact, serious. So serious that you look up for real, but you barely have to think about it before you shake your head. He hasn’t hurt anyone that you’ve seen and even Sam and Dean seem to be warming up to him even despite the undisclosed bad blood. Gabriel’s an angel, but he’s an angel like Castiel– almost human.

“Do you have any idea what you’re getting into?” Dean asks you.

You look at Dean, straight on, full eye contact– and slowly shake your head. You’re not _stupid_.

Castiel clears his throat. “Gabriel. A word?” But he doesn’t wait for Gabriel to acquiesce so much as he grabs Gabriel’s arm and disappears with him.

In the silence after, Sam pulls away from his own book to look at you. “Why don’t you ever talk when Gabriel’s around?”

You shrug. “It bugs him and I find it kind of funny.” It’s half a truth– it is funny sometimes. But Sam looks at Dean, who rolls his eyes, and you feel your hackles start to rise. “What?”

“Good luck,” Dean says and Sam snorts.

 

Gabriel is driving you _bonkers_.

A few days ago you had all gone to hunt a small coven. Two angels and three hunters made it a cakewalk, of course, but the last witch standing had aimed a spell at you that Gabriel had, calmly and without fanfare, stepped in front of. It had…interesting effects.

“Arf arf!”

You take a deep breath. The act had been appreciated, of course– even in Gabriel’s weakened, recovering state, it obviously affects him less than you. For instance, the _wings_ currently listlessly flapping as the corgi-ized archangel floats right in front of your face. As Gabriel stops and turns to wiggle his butt, you let your head fall back. Castiel had said this won’t be forever, and you try to find peace in that thought.

“Arf arf!”

It won’t be forever.

“ _Arf arf arf_!”

It won’t be forever.

“ _Arf! Arf_!”

It won’t–

“ _ARF AR–_ ”

“God dammit Gabriel _stop barking_!”

In a flash, Gabriel turns back into his smug, human-looking self, falls onto the desk and points at you. “Ah _HA_!”

You freeze.

Shit.

Shit.

_Shit_.

 

You’re still hunkered in your angel-proof room over an hour later, coming down from a panic and trying to reason with yourself. With mixed results. On one hand, it’s possible Gabriel was just crowing about getting you to open your mouth. But you doubt it. He had looked entirely too triumphant. Too…

Someone knocks on your door. Not hard enough to be Dean, not soft enough to be Sam, and not stilted enough to be Castiel.

You…maybe need to get out more often.

Gabriel knocks again and you groan into your pillow. After a second your phone alerts you to a text, and the name of the sender puts you right back into a panic.

Soulmate Sugar Pie: Can we talk?

So he knows. Of _course_. However the more you stare at your phone, the more annoyed you become with the whole situation, until you get up, open the door, and shove the screen in Gabriel’s face. “Really?!”

He blinks, then slowly smiles. “Which part?”

You put your phone back in your pocket. “The message is completely reasonable, rational– very adult. Then there’s ‘ _Sugar Pie_?’”

He grins. “You can always edit it to a pet name of your liking.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I notice you’re not arguing the first part.”

You sigh and lean against the door. “I thought angels didn’t have souls.”

“Strictly speaking, no. But grace is…” Gabriel tilts his hand from side to side. “ _Ish_. It’s not the same exactly, but we’ll be nitpicking if I try to describe it.” He cocks his head to one side. “You knew though.”

“Not a lot of people call me ‘sugarlump,’” you admit.

He bobs his head but his smile is slowly leaving. “Is it the angel thing?”

“It was at first,” you say. “Mostly I just…didn’t know how to handle it.” You gesture uselessly at yourself and then at your room. “Obviously.”

Gabriel huffs. “You’re telling me.” He pulls up his sleeve to show you the words on his shoulder. “Do you have _any_ idea the kinds of translations I’ve gotten through the years on this, just waiting for current English to be a _thing_?”

That startles you to a laugh. Gabriel flashes a smirk, but then his lips settle back down and he starts to fidget. He looks away, and then steals glances at you. “So. The angel thing: dealbreaker?”

It almost takes you aback, to see and hear Gabriel so uncertain. Normally he nopes on out of any sincere moment. But here he is. Letting you see this. He’s giving you a chance, and maybe…maybe you can do the same.

“I always worried, after I became a hunter, that my soulmate would be a liability; someone who couldn’t defend themself. Someone I would lose.” You look him up and down. “A trickster archangel who can wiggle his way out of certain death seems like a pretty good deal, actually.”

Gabriel grins again. Then he brings out a tiny spray bottle, spritzes a faintly minty-smelling mist into his mouth, and waggles his eyebrows at you.

You crook your finger, and allow him closer.


End file.
